Falling
by Fingersofbone
Summary: Genderbent AU/ Soul was a girl who desperately wanted to die. Maka was a boy who desperately wanted to save her. (Warning: attempted suicide)
1. Intro

Chapter One: Scared To Fall

A strangled cry emitted from the unhealthily thin girl. She clenched her fists, drops of blood streaming down the grooves in her palms. She tried desperately to force the sobs down her throat, holding her breath to prevent her from breaking down. There was a throbbing in her chest from the attempt, and she could feel her lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. She looked down at the bustling city below, tears blurring her vision.

_Just a little longer,_ she thought. She sported a tightlipped smiled inwardly at her own cowardice. How could she run away from everything like this? Just how weak was she? She glared spitefully, looking at the hysterical moon above her. She then shuddered. _This is the last time I'm going to see that moon._ She shakily looked down again, facing the street lights and excited commotion that seemed so unreachable to her. _So far away..._

She took a step towards it.

Her lip trembled. Would anyone miss her?

No. Keep walking.

Her knees wobbled. Maybe the dog?

He'll get over it. Another step.

But, what if it gets better?

It'll _never _get better. At the ledge now.

Maybe... I can back out?

Coward. Even a fool knows it's too late now.

Maybe... I should just jump.

Atta girl. Now, knees apart; you want to do this right, don't you?

_Right..._

The girl spread her legs apart slightly, squatting as if preparing to leap. She took a slight step back, as if to gain momentum, and screwed her eyes shut in anticipation, the urge to cry stronger than ever. _Now or never_, she thought. She ignored the small voice in her head that whispered 'never'. Her knees sprang up, so she could finally imagine the beauty of her wind billowing through her clothes and hair, and the finality of her breath bidding farewell to her lips. For, well, forever.

**This is the intro to a rather serious story I'd been meaning to write. I really should be doing a million of other things right now, but I really wanted to just post this quickly. It is going to be SoMa, I am going to write depression to the best of my abilities, yadda yadda yadda. I'm not sure when I'll be able to update, I'm pretty busy this month, but we'll see. ~Fingersofbone**


	2. The Actual Chapter One

**Hello~ So, I realize now that the intro was horrible. Seriously. Sorry. Hope this makes up for it though. HAPPY HOLIDAYS.**

**I don't own Soul Eater**

* * *

The Actual Chapter One: Letters

_'Dear mom,_

_ i know you probably wont care much, but i just felt it need to be said. _

_i will never fit your image, i will never be the person you want me to be, _

_i'm sorry about the kind of person i am, i'm sorry for the attitude, _

_i'm sorry that i wasnt born with pretty purple eyes like yours,_

_im sorry i dont have perfect rosy cheeks like you,_

_i'm sorry that i dont get the best grades,_

_i'm sorry that i'm imperfect,_

_im sorry that i did this,_

_i love you._

_~Soul'_

Heavy sobbing could be heard echoing throughout the mansion. The violet eyed woman's shoulders shook as tears streamed steadily down her, indeed, perfect rosy cheeks. A million possibilities as to what the note could have been raced through her mind at an alarming rate.

"What has she done?" the woman choked.

"**Hey dad,"** The man nearly jumped, hearing his daughters voice protrude through the silence. It was an audio from his answering machine. His condescending gaze focused on the innocent machine. Laying down the mail he was supposedly reading, he turned his torso slightly towards his daughters voice.

**"I just wanted you to know, that I'm sorry." **Her tone didn't sound very sorry. **"I'm sorry that I wasn't the perfect fucking child you envisioned me to be." **A part of the man felt shocked at his screw-up-of-a-daughters blatant profanity, whilst another part of him almost expected the lack of verbal grace. He picked up the papers again, quite used to hearing her complain.

**"And..."** The man scoffed. He could only imagine what she was to say next. **"I..." **Her voice died off. **"I... I hate you... and I'm never going to play the piano ever again!" **He began flipping through the bills and early Christmas wasn't anything new.

**"Because..." **She began to whisper. The Evans man was beginning to get slightly frustrated with her. How hard was it to talk? **"Because it's hard to play piano when you're dead."**

The papers fell from his hands.

* * *

_In the lush garden, the six year old girl pouted at her brother. _

_"How come Daddy and Mommy like you more than they like me?" She complained. The bleach blond, violet eyed boy, probably four years older than her, chuckled as he scruffed up her hair. This caused her to pout even more, a little blush dusting her petite face. "Stop it!" she whined. "You're not taking me seriously!" The boy smiled a bit, and laughed, adding insult to injury._

_"It's just that that's so ridiculous. Mom and Dad love you, you know that! Dummy!" He teased. The little girl stomped her feet immaturely. _

_"I'm not a dummy!" She defended boy kept laughing. She glared at him frustrated, then her anger retracted slightly. "Then how come they are nice and stuffs to you but meanies to me?" She muttered rhetorically, glaring off to the side. The nearly preteen, catching that little bit, felt the hilarity of the situation subside. He stopped laughing, cutting off awkwardly, and gazed at his little sister thoughtfully. He dully noted that she probably would be pouty for the rest of the day. Sighing, he pulled her into a deep hug._

_She screeched and punched at his back. She shouted for him to let her go, and Wes felt a smirk grow on his face. He let her go._

_"Well, we can't have you sad for the rest of the day..." The ten year old looked as if he were pondering something, cupping his chin with his index finger and thumb intelligently. The girl watched him slightly amused, curious as to what he was going to do next. "so... I guess a special someone is gonna have to pay you a visit..." He nodded, as if coming to a conclusion. The girl cocked her head to the side, befuddled._

_"Who?" she questioned. The boy's grin grew._

_"The... TICKLE MONSTER!" He pounced, attacking the girls sides with fluttery fingers. She squealed in laughter, attempting to push her brother away. _

_"St-STOP!" She shouted, doubling over in giggles. In an act of defiance, she ripped grass from a nearby thicket and chucked it at her brother. He snickered, blocking the flying grass using his arms as a mock shield. _

_"Wesley!" A voice shouted. The siblings felt their smiles begin to droop as they watched their infuriated father stomp towards them. "What are you doing, Soul? Your brother should be practicing. You know that! _You _should be practicing! What are you doing out here wasting time?! And- by god, what have you done to the garden?!" The mans face was so red it looked like it could just poof into a tomato and roll off his head. This caused Wes to glance apologetically at shocked Soul. He then acted brashly._

_"Fa-Father, I have another original piece that I think you m-might like." he stuttered. The man froze. He slowly regained his composure, taking deep breaths, allowing oxygen to return to his pale face. He smiled, almost wickedly._

_"How lovely, Wes. Why don't you perform it for me? I'll be waiting in the practice room. In the meantime..." he glanced at his son's dirt stained clothes. "... Why don't you change into something more presentable? I would prefer you to be more immaculate." And with that, he sauntered off. The minute he was gone from view, Wes swiveled around to his shaking sister. _

_"Soul, he didn't mean to yell at you. He's probably just mad about the Reaper family again." his comforting tones were ignored, for the girl had begun to snivel._

_"H-How do I make them happy?" she choked. Wes thought for a moment._

_"You _could _try to write a song."_

_And she did. She took her brothers advice to heart, and attempted to construct her own piece on the piano. Now, she fairly didn't know what she was doing, but she tried anyway. She was suddenly possessed by the possibility of her family treating her like they did Wes, and slaved over the piece every night when she was supposed to be asleep. It was a short, simple little poem, nothing special, but she trusted it. Albeit,when the day came to perform it, something went wrong._

_The piano wouldn't cooperate. Her fingers jumbled together as if being binded by strings. And, most importantly, the piece was _too childish._ Her father looked at her with such disgust you would think he was staring at a dead rat. Her mother tutted with faux sympathy, ignoring her daughter's hard work. Her brother watched sadly, wanting desperately to compliment the albino on a lovely attempt. He said nothing though, and watched as his sister's eyes began to well up with tears of humiliation. She spun around and stormed out of the room. Wes ran after her._

_"Wait! Soul! You just- You just need more practice! Keep writing pieces and you'll get bet-"_

_"Shut up!" the child screeched. Her eyes were already puffy as fat tears ran in streams down her cheeks. "I'm never gonna write music unless I'm dyin'!" She sobbed. _

* * *

.

Ten years later, Wes swiped at his eyes profusely after reliving the memory. He looked down at the disorganized collection of sheet music. The piece was almost entirely in fortississimo, the jumbled notes making it no doubt extremely enraged. His shoulders began to quake. He whimpered at the title.

**I Don't Lie.**

* * *

**Shoutout to my friend Sara who doesn't have an account but reviewed. Thanks buddy :) The story I think I'm going to make for your Christmas present (it's gonna be way overdue) so hang tight! I promise I'll EVENTUALLY finish it!**

**And to everyone else, thanks for reading chapter two. I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter three should be up not too long from now, considering how I've already got it off to a decent start. Also, don't worry, Soul's not dead. She's making an appearance next chapter. **

**À Plus tard,**

**~Fingersofbone**


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